


Life and The Lack of It

by WestFront



Category: Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco, The Academy Is...
Genre: A Little Less Sixteen Candles A Little More "Touch Me" (Video), Alternate Universe - A Little Less Sixteen Candles (Music Video), no ships, vampire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-31 13:58:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6472723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WestFront/pseuds/WestFront
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been one year since Brendon disappeared walking home from his job at the spice shop, and one month since he reappeared in a ridiculous ascot waxing prose about the art of not getting blood on silk.<br/>Pete couldn't understand why anyone would give up his humanity to be a monster.<br/>Brendon couldn't understand why anyone would turn down the chance of immortality.<br/>Somewhere in the middle, Chicago sleeps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

I am sitting on the edge.   
That is not a metaphor, no deeper meaning behind it. I am currently sitting on the top of one of the highest buildings in the windy city. I swing my legs back and forth as I juggle my camera. Some might call it stupid to sneak past security just to watch the sun set, but to that I say they'd never seen Chicago bathed in gold. From up here you can see half the city; my first apartment I rented with Gabe, the cheesy Italian restaurant I took my first date too, the swing set Joe fell of off Sophomore year, and if I was to turn right and squint I might even be able to see the weird herb shop Brendon had worked at before... the sun is starting to set; bathing both myself and the city around me in a glow.Why would anyone want to give up that? For a second I stare at it in wonder before I remember my reason for coming up here in the first place. Photo after photo the sky turns orange; pink; purple; black.  
I continue to sit up there for awhile. The design on my jeans pockets catches fragments of the concrete as the cities lights start to flick on below. It's an unusually warm night for September. Laughter echos off the walls of the buildings, students from the university have already started to stumble into the streets. With a sigh, I climb off my perch. If I don't hurry, then I'll be stuck listening to Patrick rant on again about the dangers of the dark and the value of teams.   
I didn't want to try to explain to him why I would risk being out. While the university students had ignorance on their side, but I knew what lurked in the dark alleys of the city. It has been a year since Brendon disappeared while walking home from said strange spice shop and a month since he reappeared in a ridiculous ascot waxing prose about murder and the art of not getting blood on silk. He would never see the sunset again.  
Every night you leave your home in Chicago you ran the risk of never seeing a sunset again.   
But now I have a picture of it. 

"Pete, dude, where have you been?" Joe stage whispers to me as I sneak through the door. I wave my  
camera toward him as an explanation. "I told Trick you went to talk to Dirty,   
he seemed to buy it."   
"Life saver." I stuff my camera into my jacket and casually stride into the room. Patrick is scribbiling away at his notebook. From the noises downstairs, Andy is going to town on the punching bag.   
Joe pushes past me on his way to the kitchen, "Andy and I went to the store while you were out. Eat my pizza rolls again, and I will stab you."  
"Same thing goes with my Cinnamon Toast Crunch." Patrick sits up and turns to me. "Did Dirty have any new information?"  
"Uh, no. He wasn't at the apt when I went by, he must have already been out." Joe gives me a wry smile and a small thumbs up from behind Patrick's left shoulder.   
"Huh. Well, it doesn't matter, I'll text him in an hour or so. See what he has." Patrick returns to his mountain of statistics. "Rumor has it the Pinks are looking for an alliance with the Punks. McCoy's crew is starting to edge out their territory. If the rumor's true we may have a big mess on our hands."  
"Looks like we might want to get some target practice in," Joe smirks across his coffee cup.   
"Yeah, yeah, I know. I working on it." I grumble as I start up the stairs. Once in my room I plug my camera up to the computer. I might not have Tom or Jon's skills, but I think I did Chicago proud. The city smiles with sunlight, beautiful even in it's darkest corners. It would never live up to the real thing, but it was perfect for it's purpose.   
Going through the photos, I relive the experience I just had a hour or so ago in reverse. Black, Purple, Pink, Orange, Brendon.  
Brendon.  
Apparently, I forgot to erase the photos from the holiday party two years ago. We're both in this photo, me with my horrible red and black emo hair, him in his horrible bowl cut, red faced and smiling drunkenly at the camera flash.   
This photo was taking while he sang a slurred version of jingle bells on the karaoke machine. His flashing Rudolph sweater pulled half off.   
In this photo Patrick and Andy laugh to each other as Nate, Joe and Brendon all try headstands on Vicky's glass table.  
This photo is Brendon and Ryan.  
This one Brendon and Jon.  
This one Brendon and Gabe and Vicky.  
And this one.  
And this one.  
This one.  
It's too much. I slam the lid to the laptop with a flourish and shakily stomp down the stairs past Joe and Andy into the training room.   
Target practice will have to wait. Right now I want to hit something.


	2. The Lack Of It

On the other side of town, a billowy man in an impeccable suit sits at a cherry wood desk. Across from him, three boyish faced men stand at attention. In the middle the youth fidgets in his spot. To his right, stands a muscular man with a dark expression. On the youth's left, the fool taps his fingers against the desk in front of them. With a sigh, the man at the desk leans back into his chair and stares unamused at the three.

"If what you say is true, Carden," The billowy man says to the youth's right. "Then it is in our best interest to attack and eliminate the Pinks before this contract goes into place. Should they be allowed to merge it may distract us from continuing our operations at City Hall."

"But sir," The fool interrupts, "If they join together and attack McCoy we can use the opportunity to gain back the territory to the south." The youth cringes on the fool's behalf and scoots closer to Carden. 

William, to his credit, doesn't react with the fury the youth was expecting. Instead, the boss frowns ever so slightly and scoots closer to the table. "The territory to the south is important, yes Siska, but not our main priority at the moment. Should the Boys and Pink makes this alliance they will match our current ranks. If they do succeed in destroying McCoy's forces, they will then seek to destroy us. We can not defend ourselves and continue with our undercover operations."

"But, sir!" The fool didn't know when to stop. "If we wait and let them fight with McCoy they would dwindle each other down until we could strike and take out bo---"

The loud smack echoed off the paneled walls of the room. The youth hadn't seen the his boss leave his chair, and yet there William stood over the cowering fool. "Never question me again." William calmly demanded as the fool pulled himself up.

"Micheal," William addressed to Carden, "Please try to milk more information out of our friend, surely she can think of something more to tell us." Smirking, Carden nodded toward William and strode out of the room to talk more to the Pink they had captured. 

"Brendon," The tall man said to the youth, "I want you to change into street clothes, they should be in your room. Head into their territory and gather any information you deem relevant. Try not to draw any attention. You are young enough they shouldn't know you, try to keep it that way." 

Brendon quickly left his boss's office with his assignment, wanting to be far away from William once he started his 'chat' with Sisky. Just as his boss had said, the disguise for his mission was on the dresser. It would be hard for him to explain the feeling of taking his prized uniform off to slip on the clothes of a life he gladly left behind. Gone was the tweed jacket, the silky bow tie, the pristine white bowler hat. He fumbled with the denim jeans that were too tight, too human. He angrily pulled at the collar of his t-shirt and the tag that scratched his neck. Across the chest of the shirt was a logo of a band he felt he should remember but drew a blank on. He hated the shirt because of it. The shoes were almost worse, instead of his polished black loafers, these cheap canvas monstrosities did nothing but remind him how lucky he was to have been chosen by William. He stood in front of the mirror for a while glaring at his reflection. He looked like his dinner had. 

It was still early, the sun had only been down an hour or so. Plenty of time for Brendon to explore on his own. For a moment he thought of stopping for a snack, but the students laughed too loudly and the middle aged woman was jogging with her dog. So instead Brendon's feet carried him east until the smell of sage and thyme became so strong he had to stop and find the source. 

Something about the cobbled stairs and bright green door called out to him. Brendon could vaguely remember a curly haired boy and a girl with a large smile laughing to each other. A low hum carried out the window, recognizable but vague. A frayed and yellowed paper was taped in the corner of the shop window: Have you seen this man? Please Contact the Chicago Police Department.

Wait.

Brendon remembered this place.

It was the spice shop from his other life. A relic of the fragile humanity he hated. Scoffing angrily at the emerald door, Brendon turned away upset with himself for veering off course. 

Brendon had never been able to venture into this part of the city since his death. The streets were dark and cracked. The brick walls needed to be scrubbed. Everything looked grimmer than in his foggy memories. Brendon vaguely wondered if it was his improved sight or his time spent away. Judging by the graffiti smeared upon the brick, at some point he had walked to the end of William's territory and into McCoy's. It would be a deadly mistake to lurk here for long, Brendon ducked his head and walked as quickly as he could. 

He made it all the way to his destination when something caught his eye. Through an apartment window he could make out two figures swaying to no music. An elderly man kissed his beloved wife on the head as the spun. Brendon pitied them. As the swirled and laughed, Brendon's thought went toward their end. Eventually they would be forced apart, a life of happiness snuffed out by death. His remorse led him to the wild thought of saving them. Perhaps they would thank him, they could continue their love forever. Never growing older. Never growing apart. Brendon was content to stand there watching for quite sometime. For a while he forgot why he hadn't ventured into this part of the city.

"I suggest you move on, child." Oh. Right. Brendon remembered now.


End file.
